


Patience, Said the Lightkeeper

by for_t2



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Curses, Darkness, F/F, Hope vs. Despair, Horror, Lighthouses, Ocean, Pilgrimage, Storms, Tea, Waiting, Walks On The Beach, ancient monsters, harpoons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: It was said that the lighthouse at the edge of the world was where it would rise again, if you waited long enough
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Patience, Said the Lightkeeper

Silhouettes slipped between the waves, shadows dancing darker than the water, but Lenn still couldn’t hear anything but the howl of the wind. She wasn’t even sure if she wasn’t seeing shadows, out there in the raging ocean, or if she was imagining them, a trick of the night sky caught in the beam of the lantern behind her. The waves crashed and twisted against each other, but the horizon stayed empty. The dark stayed dead.

It was heartbreaking.

It had been three days since Lenn had arrived at the lighthouse. Three days since she had climbed her way up the thin, uneven path that winded around the jagged rocks before it reached the tower. Three days of watching the storm, of feeling the sting of the cold, salty air whipping against her, and three days of nothing. Of wind and water and nothing else. The ocean raged but nothing happened.

Lenn pulled her jacket tighter around her, huddling against the wall as the rain splattered against the plastic outer layer of the jacket. She had been here for three days and she had been hoping to see something for three days. Not even something, anything. Even just the slightest glimpse, the smallest shadow that lasted longer than a blink, would’ve been enough.

Maybe, she snorted to herself, that was the true horror of the lighthouse. You spent so long waiting that it drove you insane. Or maybe you just spent so long waiting that the rain soaked right through you, salt leeching into your bones, bit by bit by bit.

Maybe.

Either way, disappointment didn’t really begin to describe how Lenn felt. How badly she had needed this. How deeply she had convinced herself of this. She had no idea where she would go afterwards, where she was supposed to go without this. She needed—

“You’ve been out here for a long time.” Lenn jumped at the sudden shadow that cut through the lantern’s beam. “Too long.”

Lenn scrambled to pick herself up off the platform floor. To pull her jacket a little bit tighter. “It hasn’t come yet.”

The Lightkeeper stared at her for a long second, unflinching in the rain. “Do you think it will come?”

Lenn had come because it had to. She needed to see it. To feel it. “It has to.”

The Lightkeeper stared at her again, eyes unblinking and very, very dark. Eventually, she chuckled. “It’s not safe.” And before Lenn had the chance to protest, the Lightkeeper turned away. Titled her head to tell Lenn to follow. “Come. You look like you need some tea.” 

*****

The steam from the teapot rose up through the lighthouse kitchen until it hit the small window underneath the wooden ceiling, where it met the constant patter of the rain outside. It didn’t have far to go – the kitchen was small, cramped, overflowing with pots and knives and shards of bone scavenged from the beach.

“There you go.” The Lightkeeper set down a cup in front of Lenn. Took her own seat across the table, nodding in satisfaction. “Isn’t this a better way to wait?”

Lenn took a sip and tried not to grimace (but she did). The tea was warm, but it tasted too much like salt, like a fish had swam in it once and the water had never quite forgotten. “It has to come.”

The Lightkeeper laughed. “That’s what everybody says.” Leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking slightly. “That’s why people like you come here.”

People like her? Lenn bristled, as if she should be offended. As if there was an implication behind those words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Some people need to see the dark.” The Lightkeeper shrugged. “That is why you’ve come, isn’t it?”

The dark. Lenn wasn’t sure if that was the right word to describe… if there were any words that could describe it. The ocean and the night were both vast, and in places like these, they had a way of finding each other. “It’s none of your business.”

“This is my lighthouse. In a way.” The Lightkeeper took a sip of her tea. “I’ve heard a lot of people tell me that. And they are always here for one thing and one thing only.” She grinned as she nodded up to the window. “The thing that lives out there.”

The Lightkeeper’s skin was weathered by storms, but she didn’t look much older than Lenn, and Lenn had to wonder just how many people she was talking about. “But it’s not here. It’s not showing itself. Why?” The Lightkeeper shrugged. “What do I need to do?”

The Lightkeeper shrugged again. “They say this coast is the edge of the world. An edge of the world. The world isn’t flat, you know? It’s round, but it also goes in and out and it twists around itself and around worlds that we don’t even know are there.”

Lenn considered trying another sip of tea but decided against it. “That’s not an answer.”

“If you want to find out what those other worlds look like, if you want to find out what goes on in the worlds between those worlds, you need to make a tear.” The Lightkeeper drew her finger across the grain of the table. “One small tear.”

Lenn froze.

“Our world is unlucky that way, isn’t it?” The Lightkeeper grabbed another log and tossed it into the fireplace. “We lost so much, so long ago.”

“We…” Lenn stammered out a word. She didn’t know exactly what the Lightkeeper meant by a tear and she didn’t think she wanted to know. “I can’t.” She really didn’t. “I won’t.”

“Of course not.” The Lightkeeper rolled her eyes. “So many people say they want to find the dark, but none of them really ever try to look.”

“I am looking.” Lenn had been here for three days. Three days. And she had… The Lightkeeper wasn’t even listening to her anymore, back turned as she dug through the rack by the fire. “I am looking! It’s supposed to—”

The Lightkeeper slammed a shovel against the table. “You can’t tell the dark what it’s supposed to do.” She waited for Lenn to move, for Lenn to answer. When Lenn didn’t, she patted the shovel. “You should try the beaches tonight. The world there is a little more… torn. You might find something.” When Lenn still didn’t move, the Lightkeeper scoffed. “Or else you’ll just have to wait.”

*****

The sand was rough beneath Lenn’s boots. More than rough, full of sharp rocks and empty shells that crunched when she tried to step around them. And even the rough sand was barely half the beach, interrupted every few metres by long clusters of barren rocks, slippery to the touch and scarred with etches that cut deeper than just erosion.

But the horizon still stayed empty.

The wind howled harsher across the beach than around the lighthouse, the waves crashing closer, close enough to make Lenn stumble backwards, for the rain to drag her back towards the water. The stormclouds could’ve suffocated the sky above the sand, but still, the horizon stayed empty.

Nothing came.

Nothing at all.

“Fuck!” Lenn cursed, barely hearing her own voice above the storm, as she threw the shovel into the sand. As she stopped next to one stony outcrop by the water. “Fuck.” She was cold, she was tired, her feet ached, and there was nothing. Just sand and water and the faint light of the lighthouse lantern in the distance. There was nothing. “Where are you?”

Nothing answered her.

“Where—”

Her voice had only started to rise into a shout before something slammed into her gut.

Through her gut.

She didn’t need to touch it to know that it was sharp. To feel the blood trickling down the hem of her trousers. She had been about to shout at the waves. Instead, all she could do was croak a breath that made her vision swim with pain. “What?”

“You’re going to die soon.” Lenn could barely force herself to turn around before the Lightkeeper slammed her against the rocks. “It won’t take long. Not long at all.”

Lenn could barely breath. Could barely see. But she could feel the blood.

“I told you so many people come here looking for the dark.” The Lightkeeper grinned savagely. “Do you know how many people ever leave this lighthouse?”

Lenn could barely think. “What?”

“We’re at the edge of the world and we’re waiting. We’re waiting!” The Lightkeeper shouted at the waves and laughed when they didn’t answer her. “I’ve been waiting for so long.”

Lenn tried to move her feet, but they wouldn’t.

“I’m going to make you the same offer I’ve made every other pilgrim who comes here.” The Lightkeeper grabbed before she slipped. Shoved her back against the rocks. “The same offer I said yes to once.”

Lenn cried as the Lightkeeper ripped the harpoon out of her.

“We all come here to find the dark. We all need to make a tear. We need to wait.” The Lightkeeper pushed Lenn back up as she started slipping again. Licked the blood off the harpoon’s tip and pushed the harpoon into Lenn’s hands. “Somebody has to wait.”

When the Lightkeeper stepped away, Lenn had nothing left to grasp onto but the harpoon.

“Somebody has to wait.” The Lightkeeper stood in front of Lenn and turned her head towards the waters. “Somebody has to.” And for a second, her voice broke. “Please.”

The world was slipping away from Lenn. Or maybe Lenn was slipping away from the world. She didn’t know if there was a difference anymore. She couldn’t focus. She couldn’t…

She had the harpoon.

She forced her eyes open. Forced herself to take a step. Forced her arm up. Forced herself to look at the Lightkeeper. Lenn had the harpoon.

Maybe this tear would make it come.

And if it didn’t, then Lenn would wait.


End file.
